


Broken

by RobinPlaysTrumpet15



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Pain, mentioned physical injuries, no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinPlaysTrumpet15/pseuds/RobinPlaysTrumpet15
Summary: Obi-Wan deals (or doesn't) with a broken training bond after Qui-Gon's death.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 136





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Guys, this one's not happy. I'm hoping I did well enough on the tags for that to have been gotten across already, but still. If you don't want to hurt, this is another chance for you to back out.
> 
> I was having thoughts about the bonds between masters and padawans and then wondered briefly about what would happen if the bond was broken by one of them dying. I decided near immediately that it _hurts_. This was the result. I hope you like it.

Obi-Wan smiled. A lot.

He smiled at Anakin.

He smiled at Master Yoda.

He smiled at Mace.

He smiled at the healers and the librarians and his former agemates.

Obi-Wan smiled at everyone, because there was almost always someone around. If it wasn’t passing by other Jedi in the hallways or in the mediation chambers, it was Anakin who was constantly at his side. Just as a padawan should be.

Smiling was beginning to hurt.

(If Obi-Wan was honest with himself, it had been hurting for weeks. Since the moment he felt Qui-Gon-)

But it was easier to smile because otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could even stand. He felt naked without the smile, no matter how forced it was. If he wasn’t smiling, he was vulnerable. He was weak.

If he wasn’t smiling, he was crying.

Obi-Wan cried. A lot.

He cried, hard, into his pillow at night when he didn’t sleep.

He cried silently while watering his plants because he couldn’t let them die.

He cried, hard and losing his breath, into the tea he hated but his former master had loved.

He cried in the fresher and in the gardens and in the middle of meditation because if he reached out with his feelings, there was nothing to feel.

From the time he was twelve, there had always been something there, _someone_ there. They were warm and gentle and firm and sturdy. They were everything an anxious kid like Obi-Wan had needed. Reaching out in the middle of the night felt like a hug that soothed away the nighttime worries. Reaching out from a chair in the halls of healing because he’d sprained his ankle felt like steadying hands on his shoulders that said everything would be fine.

From the time he was twelve, there had been that _bond_ to reach for. It was a connection that had caught him too many times to count. Thirteen years and he’d always been there. Thirteen years and Obi-Wan had never had cause to feel alone. Thirteen years and even when they were planets apart, he could reach out and feel his presence; know he was there with him.

It had taken just one heart-stopping moment for it to be gone.

The world felt wrong. Obi-Wan was more than just disoriented, he was all but unable to stand. Up felt a little bit like down, down felt too much like sideways, and Obi-Wan could only feel a bone-deep emptiness.

It hurt in his lungs and in his stomach and in his heart. It hurt down in his bones and ached through his muscles. The hurt felt like the time he’d nicked the blade of his lightsaber across his knee at fourteen. It felt like the time he’d broken a rib at seventeen.

It hurt like being torn apart from every angle, every direction, every way he could be touched. It felt like shattering and falling apart and free-falling through open space. His stomach dropped and caught in his throat at the same time. His heart stopped beating as it sped up and stumbled over itself. He lost his breath like a punch to the chest at the same time he felt he couldn’t take in any more air if he tried.

More than that. It hurt somewhere else. Somewhere deep down that wasn’t physical.

Meditation caused him more pain than anything ever had. Faced with just himself - just his own thoughts and feelings. Just him, his heart, and his soul.

And his soul was in _tatters_.

It was ripped to shreds around the edges, fractured and chipped and missing bits and pieces from where it had ripped.

After thirteen years, they’d been so close - connected in a way few people ever were.

And when he’d-

When he’d gone, he’d taken pieces of Obi-Wan with him.

But no one could ever know, because the only person who’d ever understand was…

So Obi-Wan smiled. A lot.

And pretended not to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My beta reader (also my brother) wanted me to mention that I nearly killed him with this story, so... Yeah. I would love to hear your thoughts. Comments and kudos are always appreciated. I really hope you liked this story. If you have any prompts or ideas that you would like to see me work with, feel free to leave them in a comment or you can send them in an email to robinplaystrumpet15@gmail.com
> 
> Thanks again!


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